


The Rogues Family Tradition

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Aggressive Snapping, Alternate Universe - Addams Family Fusion, Aunt Lisa, Baby Axel, College Student Hartley, Cousin Roy, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, Humor, Kid Mardon Brothers, M/M, Team as Family, Teenager Shawna, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7355320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hartley Rathaway is obligated to visit home for spring break to attend yet another one of Leonard Snart's funerals.</p><p>Or, the Addams Family-Rogues fusion that maybe two people asked for (and one of those people was me)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rogues Family Tradition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jonfuckingmoxley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonfuckingmoxley/gifts).



> Addams Family aus are just too fun. I couldn't resist in the Musketeers fandom, and I ain't even gonna try to resist now. Dedicated to thepresenceofjustice on tumblr.  
> Yes, Mick and Len are definitely unnecessarily married. Because. Why not?
> 
> snap snap motherfuckers

Hartley Rathaway enjoys university. He really does. Aside from encountering morons at every turn, he's managed to find some semi-intelligent people to hang around with whenever his family calls and decides to ask who he sat next to at lunch like he's in fucking elementary school. Also, thanks to his fathers' copious bribes (" _donations_ , Hartley" say the Smirking Bastards), he's permitted to use the top-of-the-line labs whenever he wants, so long as he records what he's done, which of course he does anyway.

This spring break, nearly every single student, faculty, and staff member plans on getting outta dodge. Leaving Hartley with all the time he wants to putz around the labs. He'd been making plans and everything.

Until... _until_.

>>Shawna  
(13:04) dad died again

Cisco, from across the hall, peeks in when he hears Hartley's rare and banshee-like shriek, muffled only slightly by the pillows. "Hartley? What's up?"

>>Shawna  
(13:05) dad 2 alredy torching dads fave hemlock  
(13:07) [image attached] id get ovr here wen ur break strts

"Bro! Bro, bro, bro! What's going on?!"

 _Family tradition_ is what's going on. Couldn't the son of a bitch at least wait until  _after_ spring break to die this time?

>>Hartley  
(13:09) Can't you guys just dig him up? I have plans

>>Shawna  
(13:10) u kno the rules

_Fuck._

"Uh...Hartley?"

"Just get out, Cisco. I," Hartley seethes, "I have to  _pack_."

* * *

Midnight, Ides of March: a lone shadow digs furiously in the midst of what seems to be hundreds of graves. He doesn't stop for breath or even to light a single match so he can see precisely where he's digging. Combined with his hulking form, the guttural snarls and grunts of his voice as he savagely digs-digs-digs give a random passerby—if there are any in this private cemetery—a frightening, monstrous impression.

This image only worsens when the shovel finally thumps against its target. This monster bellows two deep, feral laughs before tossing it aside and leaping into the hole.

At last, he flicks on his lighter. The eyes of Mick Rory, thankfully still in Mick Rory's head, gleam hungrily at the dirt. Smacking away the excess with one hand, he reveals a coffin's slightly tarnished surface.

"Alexa!" he barks without looking away from his prize, "Gimme a hand!"

A hand of long graceful fingers promptly flings itself onto his shoulder. Her polished silver ring dances in the dim firelight. When offered, it takes Mick's lighter and holds it steady from its perch with unwavering balance.

Mick tears off the chain he's been wearing the past two weeks. Its pendant is a single silver key; a soft  _click_ , and the coffin's unlocked and yanked open.

There, lying in cold repose, is a pale corpse whose hands are eerily similar to Alexa. Clutched in those hands is a sphere of swirling blue light that shows the occasional flicker of perhaps a person or angry spirit (it can be so hard to tell, you know). The rest of him is draped in a ridiculously thick blue parka, black thermal clothes, and black combat boots.

Mick growls, a predator at a feast. "Look at 'im, Alexa," he grins, "I've killed for him; I've burned for him. Either way, I had fun." Abruptly, his expression twists in manic fury. "But y'know what's  _not_ fun? Walkin' around up here when  _he's_ down  _here_."

Mick snatches the sphere and slams it on the side of the coffin. The shattered pieces release a blinding torrent of voices and screams so intense, even a single moment among them feels like an eternity of agony.

Lucky bastard must've had the time of his afterlife.

When the torment clears, blue eyes blink silently open, dark lashes prominent against their surrounding pallor. As they travel to the lighter in Alexa's fingers, their retainer crinkles them in a smirk.

A voice, hoarse from disuse but no less sarcastic, teases, "You call that a flame?"

Mick bears his teeth. " _Lenny_."

Leonard Snart rises from his grave, Mick chasing after him. Alexa hands back the lighter in favor of propelling to the revived man's shoulder.

"Ah," says Leonard, "always trust your own hand." The ring is safely returned to his more recently attached right hand. "Well done, Alexa."

Alexa dips in a pseudo-bow before bouncing off. As she scurries into the dark, her old comrade raises his fingers in farewell.

Mick reaches Leonard in two strides, gripping his arms and slotting his torso against Leonard's back. "Being without you for two weeks 's turned me into a homicidal maniac," he gripes.

Leonard regards him steadily over his shoulder. "Cool it, Mick," he replies, "you've always been a homicidal maniac."

A pause. "Snart. That was a pun."

Leonard's answering grin is devious. "Yes."

Mick snatches his arm. He presses bruising kisses from knuckle to shoulder, undeterred by the parka's thick sleeve.

Leonard fixates on him for a brief moment before turning to the only shadow bigger than his partner: a looming wreckage just beyond the cemetery, full of haunting candlelight and shadows: an abandoned warehouse-like structure with random haphazard additions and turrets. Not exactly a castle, yet it has been coined by many in the neighborhood as "that creepy castle." To the Rogue Family, it is called "Home."

"Did the plan work?" Leonard asks.

"They've been unbearable," Mick snaps, blunt nails digging into Leonard's fingers, "Lisa doesn't even polish her gold in the dead of night. And every time I tried to smother Axel in his crib, somebody _else_ has the nerve to stop me."

" _Mick_. I wasn't talking about them." Although Leonard does make a mental note to talk to his sister about going to sleep before midnight. Such strange behavior is never a good sign.

Mick finally eases on his kisses. "Oh, _that_ part worked alright. Hartley finished his last test and got 'imself a flight to Central."

Leonard smirks, "And then he'll be back in our cold,  _loving_ clutches. It's not good for a kid to be away from his parents so long, after all."

Idly, Mick wonders when, or if Leonard will ever consider Hartley an adult. He wonders if he'll ever do the same.

"Come on, Mick. Let's go say hello."

Well, doesn't matter now. Mick presses his and Lenny's shoulders together as they walk home, leaving the empty grave behind.

* * *

"You want to what?"

Cisco shrugs. "I've got nothing planned for spring break. Since we're both from Central, I thought maybe I could visit you?"

Hartley opens his mouth to tell him how preposterous that is. Why should he bring his  _rival_ to meet his fami—his lips curl.

"Cisco," he says, in a tone reminiscent of his father, "that's a  _great_ idea."

After all, why  _shouldn't_ he bring his rival to meet his family?

* * *

The Rogue Family Home erupts in a torrent of screams. Thunder rumbles through the very walls, threatening to tear the building at the foundations.

Hartley accepts the excessive hugging if only so he won't have to deal with it again in the foreseeable future.

Cisco crows from the doorway, "Bro, that's so adorable!" and everything stops.

Leonard, having shucked his funeral parka for his favored household one—you can tell the difference by the household one's hem being exactly five inches shorter and two shades lighter—grins fiendishly at the new arrival.

"Well, well," he calls across the entrance hall, "who's this?"

Cisco blinks at his pale face and devious gleam. "Uh...I live across the hall from Hartley?"

Mick, dressed to his red suspenders and Henley, teases, "Y'don't sound too sure. Maybe they shuffle the rooms a lot, like Aunt Gideon's place."

"...um?"

"This is Cisco, my arch rival," Hartley announces.

"Rival?" Cisco cries, "I thought we were friends!"

"We don't meet  _friends_ of the kids," Leonard sneers, "rivals are on constant equal footing no matter what state of conflict they're in. Friends keep insisting on being _nice_ to each other, and nobody can do that all the time, so it gets awkward when that  _bliss_ ful harmony is disrupted. Do you suppose my husband and I are  _friends_?"

Cisco blinks. "Uh. Yeah?"

The men snort. Leonard adds, "We prefer the," glancing sidelong at Mick, " _heat_ of battle."

Mick's eyes ignite. "Lenny," he growls, grabbing Len's arm, "when you make puns, y'drive me  _wild_."

While Cisco gapes at Mick's torrent of kisses and bites along Leonard's arm, Lisa glides over to their guest with a charming siren smile carved on her lips—not by a knife this time, Hartley's pleased to note: that'd taken forever to get out of the carpet, and the neighbors didn't even stay for trick-or-treat that year, tasteless bastards.

" _So_ nice to meet Hartley's rival," she simpers, holding out her hand, "My name is Lisa Snart. Those two besotted idiots are my brother Leonard and his husband Mick. And these are their children."

Shawna takes the opportunity to introduce them. She's only a couple years behind Hartley, about to finish her senior year of high school; then there's Mark and Clyde Mardon, 13 and 11; and finally, little Axel.

"Axel holds one of the family records," Lisa says, "an acquitted suspect in his father's murder, and only two years old!"

Cisco splutters, "A  _what_?"

"Oh yes. I don't know why they would suspect him in the first place. After all, he loved his father." Lisa brightens as a man in a high-necked black coat walks into the room. "This is Cousin Roy. Cousin Roy, this is Cisco, Hartley's rival."

Cousin Roy raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Rival, huh? Didn't know Hartley could consider anyone his equal. Pleasure to meet you."

Cisco still doesn't know whether he should feel insulted or flattered about this 'rival' business. Still, he shakes the man's hand and asks, "Are you Mick or Leonard's cousin? My dad's got like, ten," he adds with a nervous laugh.

But Roy only says, "No," before he and Hartley strangle each other in greeting.

"So," Leonard drawls, "now that we're all  _acquainted_ —"

Hartley snaps, "Yeah, and you're not even dead!" Cisco's mouth drops. "What's up with that?!"

Leonard pulls free of Mick's lips to cross his arms. "I followed the tradition. Wasn't my fault Shawna sent you a warning too late." He and Shawna share a wink.

Hartley seethes. "I had  _plans_!"

"So did we," Mick says, "and they involve you. Family quality time and everything."

Cisco puts up a finger. "Uh, sorry, but...did you just say your dad was supposed to be  _dead_?"

Hartley waves a dismissive hand. "It's a tradition. Leonard's ancestors stole a priceless artifact in the 500's called the Oculus, and it calls to their descendants."

"I take a more efficient route," Leonard says, "I die for a week twice a year."

"And you've used up your second week. Now I get an extra week off summer!"

" _Really_ Hartley, there's no need to be dramatic," smirks Leonard.

Cisco clears his throat. "Um. I-I could stay at a hotel, or—"

Lisa hooks their arms. "Nonsense, Cisco-baby. We have a few guest rooms just  _dying_ to have you."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Cisco mutters.

* * *

When he sees the guest room, Cisco's first reaction is a loud, " _Um_."

Before him is a room coated in silks and weaponry alike: the bed is an elaborate four-poster canopy with plush pillows and artfully turned down blue sheets, while the walls are polished mahogany paneling. The floor is just as immaculate, as well as the old wardrobe in the corner. The rest of it though?

Yep. Weapons.  _Weapons everywhere_. Axes, maces, swords, guns, more guns, guns with multiple barrels—they litter the walls and every available surface besides the bed.

"You never know when someone will take a shot," Leonard helpfully explains.

Mick bares his teeth. "Battle Royales are the  _best_."

Cisco gulps. "Battle...Royales?"

Lisa smirks, "As Hartley's rival, you get to have a prime spot. This room has many hidden passages you can sneak through,  _and_ a wonderful vantage point. Leonard's rival has the same privilege when he stops by."

Leonard hums, "Barry's got impeccable speed. I'm the _only_ one who can shoot him."

Mick snarls. Really though, he  _snarls_ , like a rabid dog. Or a lion. A  _rabid_ lion. Yes.

Lisa leans over and murmurs to Cisco, "Mick used to be Lenny's only rival. Barry became his  _arch_ rival though. Made poor Mickey terribly jealous."

Right. Okay. So.

 _What_?

Cisco scratches his head. "Well. Thanks. For the, uh, vantage point and stuff."

"Of course," Lisa says, "if you ever need anything, shoot first, and we'll ask later."

Ah. Oh. Um.

"Okay," Cisco squeaks.

* * *

Thankfully, there's no Battle Royale that night. Even better, Cisco can corner Hartley the next morning.

"What do you want, Cisco?" Hartley grumbles. He's not a morning person.

"So your family," Cisco whispers, "they're uh...they're  _unique_."

"They're weird as fuck," Hartley says bluntly, "I know."

Oh thank God. "Well—"

"They're not usually like this."

"Wh—wait, they're not?"

As usual, Hartley adopts his superior jackass look. "You think I ended up the way I am on accident?"

Great, so the family's usually a pack of high-end assholes too.

"I mean, come on. Normally, Mark and Clyde would've started a hurricane in the living room by now. And Leonard and Mick have toned it down way too much."

...oh.

* * *

Breakfast takes place at a lovely table in a domed conservatory that overlooks a desolate wasteland: a ruined part of Central City run by the worst kind of criminals.

Leonard's already there by the time Cisco and Hartley arrive. He's facing the run-down streets, hands clasped behind his back. Amid the strange plants (some of them are  _glowing_ , what the fuck), he looks like a ruler surveying his country.

He's in his breakfast parka, which can be easily mistaken for a robe with how thin and soft it is, the fur collar blending into the lapels, and a sash buckled over the waist. It reaches past his knees, high enough to reveal dark sleep pants and socks.

"Well, good  _morning_ ,  _Cis_ co," he drawls, turning to smirk at them. "Congratulations on getting Hartley out of bed this early. He's not usually up until someone puts a noose around his neck."

Cisco gapes, " _What_?"

"I know. You'd think putting a gun to his head and yelling would do the trick."

Hartley glowers at both of them, shoving into a seat towards the middle of the table. "So where's your big shadow, huh?" he snaps.

On cue, a heavy hand clamps on Cisco's shoulder, making him yelp.

"Oh," Leonard drawls, eyes simmering with feral glee, "he's around."

Using Cisco as an impromptu pole, Mick, covered in scrapes and dirt, hoists himself from the thicket of plants. In his hand is an oddly-shaped watering can that—well, it kinda looks like a gun, except for the obvious nozzle. Then again, you never know with this family.

Mick waters one of the saucers at the head of the table, where two chairs sit instead of one. Aaaand no, that is  _not_ water.

"Sierra says hey, Len," Mick says, "pretty sure we're spoilin' her with this bourbon."

Leonard smirks at Cisco's dumbfounded look. "Yes, yes, we shouldn't give a Venus fly trap bourbon. But we like to save her dessert wine for  _special_ occasions."

What.

"You...give your plant...alcohol?" Cisco says.

Mick snorts, "What else're we gonna give 'er? She's Lenny's favorite, after all."

"Why, Mick," Leonard smirks, "your affection is  _snow_ very appreciated."

_What._

Mick abandons his watering can and thick gloves in favor of sprinting to Leonard's side and snatching his husband's arm. Hartley rolls his eyes and serves himself breakfast.

"Come on, Cisco," he says, "it's first come, first serve."

"Uh...okay. What's on the menu?"

"Green eggs and ham," Leonard deadpans. Cisco snickers...but then the man raises an eyebrow in question, and he takes a look at the table.

"Oh," Cisco whispers.

A thick leafy vine abruptly dips out of the thicket. In its sharp white teeth is baby Axel, playing with a rattle.

"Ah, there he is," Leonard says, taking him from the vine, "well done, Captain.  _Mick_."

Mick, who moved his kisses to his husband's shoulders, mutters, "What? Sierra's a good talker. Got distracted."

"Not that, Mick. You're not playing with your lighter and it's already past six."

Mick hums, pulling Leonard close. "Always so good with time, Snart."

" _Yes_."

Hartley rolls his eyes. Cisco tentatively presses his fork against the green eggs, watching them steam with a bubbly liquid as their surface breaks.

"Try eating them with a spoon, so you can drink the green," Shawna says—somehow she's appeared right behind Cisco. "Better than coffee."

"...yeah," Cisco says, "'course."

* * *

After breakfast, the family disperses to their every day routines: Shawna takes Mark and Clyde to Central proper, while Axel is put in the nursery. Leonard and Mick are off to take a stroll through the wastelands.

Hartley takes Cisco to his basement labs. Apparently the Rogues have three basement levels, and Hartley's labs are on the fourth.

"Wait but," Cisco says, "if you only have three basement levels—"

"Here we are," Hartley says, unlocking the door with a large iron key.

All thoughts of weird basement levels crumble under the electron microscope alone.

"Show me your wonders!" Cisco cries.

Two hours later, Hartley's still showing him stuff. None of the family's around to interrupt, which is a boon for obsessed scientists in the scientists' opinion. Unfortunately, Cisco's phone somehow has service in these tunnels, and it buzzes in his pocket just as Hartley was gettin' to the calculations.

"Hello?"

Cisco never knew how much he missed the wonderful normal that is Barry Allen until he hears his buddy's voice chirp,  _"Hey, Cisco!"_

"Barry! What's up?"

_"I was just—hey, is that Len?"_

Cisco blinks. "What?"

As if summoned, Leonard snatches Cisco's phone and practically drapes himself over a nearby table as if trying to impress an invisible Barry. " _Barry_ ," he purrs, "I didn't know you and Cisco were friends... _really_? Small world...oh, did you miss me, Flash?..." and he just walks off with Cisco's phone.

Cisco watches him go, wide-eyed. "I thought he was five miles away?"

Hartley scoffs, "Barry's his  _rival_ , Cisco. What did you expect?"

Heat chokes the floor above.

"What—"

"Ah, that's just Mick," Hartley says, already turning back to the whiteboard, "he'll probably burn something down while Leonard's chatting with Barry."

"...oh."

After a minute:

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did Leonard call Barry  _Flash_?!"

* * *

>>Cisco (14:22)  
CAPTAIN COLD IS THE GUY WHO TOOK MY PHONE?!

>>Barry (14:22)  
Yeah btw how did that happen? Are u staying at Hartleys?

>>Cisco (14:23)  
U KNOW WHERE COLD LIVES?!  
(14:24) OMG U HVE STAYED HERE!

>>Barry (14:24)  
Well sure! :D i'm Lens arch rival!

As if sensing Barry's texts daring to enter his home, Mick lights a painting on fire. A painting that happens to hang right by Cisco's head.

>>Cisco (14:25)  
IM GONNA DIE

>>Barry (14:25)  
no ur not. Promise!

Mick roars and jams his fist into a nearby suit of armor. A human groan sounds from the hollow depths of iron.

Cisco huffs, "Bro, you know Barry's got a boyfriend, right?"

Suddenly, Leonard's bursting through the door on small blizzard. " _What._ "

Hartley's cackling for ten solid minutes when Cisco tells him why the living room is a battlefield of fire and ice.

* * *

"Now Mick.  _Cool off_."

Mick clenches his fingers against the urge. "Don't."

Len slinks across the ash- and frost-covered floor, stopping to lounge on his preferred round chair that stands tall over the rest. He sits sideways, crossed legs dangling over the arm. One hand grips his cold gun, the other just dangles over the edge.  _Waiting_.

" _Stop it_ , Snart."

"No need to get so  _heated_." Len smirks. " _Heat Wave_."

 _Fuck_.

"Y'know," says Lenny over Mick's obnoxious kissing noises, "that marriage shrink got it right. Venting frustrations is easy when you've got a target." he narrows his eyes. "What'd she say after that? Somethin' about _not_ using something as the target."

"Dunno," Mick grunts, burying his nose in the crook of Len's elbow, "don' care."

Their guest screams. To Len's consternation, Mick's attention is taken by that instead of where it's supposed to be.

"What's that guy hollerin' about?"

Alexa peeks from her box next to Len's head. She's curled meekly under the lid.

"Alexa wanted to say hello," Len translates, "and he freaked."

"Huh. Weird little guy, ain't 'e?"

"Mm. How impolite of him to give Alexa such a  _cold_ reception."

Len relaxes back into his seat as Mick restarts from the fingers up.

* * *

"Do you really have to go so soon?" Lisa pouts, "Hartley said you were going to stay the week!"

Cisco barks a nervous laugh. "Well, you know how family can get when you're away for too long. My mom's a howler."

Shawna gasps, "Really? She should meet Cousins Sara and Laurel!"

"For real? Are they like, Roy's cousins, or Leonard's or Mick's?"

"No," the girls reply.

"What a  _shame_ you have to leave before your time," Leonard says. Somehow he makes that sound like a death threat. "It's so rare we get fresh meat around here."

Mick rumbles low in his throat, and. Um. No thanks.

Hartley crosses his arms. "If you're not gonna stay, will you get outta here already?"

Aw, he  _likes_ him. Cisco grins, "Sure, man. I'll see you after break!"

"Whatever."

A strong wind sends Cisco and his bags rolling into the yard.

The Mardon brothers look at each other. "Whoops."

Alexa waves Cisco goodbye as he takes off to his cab. Leonard makes sure to ice a tire before he, and his wonderful family of Rogues, head back into their home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
